


I'll Sing You Back Home

by ace (alia_castiella)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, but you should listen to the song, guitarists are hot, not quite a songfic, sterek feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 21:17:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alia_castiella/pseuds/ace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s inevitable, he guesses, that he ends up at the Hale house. His thoughts have been dragging him there all day, and he’s never been all that awesome at impulse control.</p><p>He parks the Jeep and gets out, takes maybe three steps toward the house, and stops dead in his tracks. Derek is sitting on the rickety front steps, strumming a beat-up acoustic guitar. Stiles has never pictured Derek as a musician, but now that he thinks about it, he’s not all that surprised.</p><p>(In which Stiles is bored and Derek plays guitar.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This Gun's For Hire

_**Note:** The title of the work is from [Last Goodbye](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=goghHorIjfQ) by The Wailin' Jennys. It's a good song; you should give it a listen later. Right now, though, you should listen to Mat Kearney's cover of [Dancing in the Dark](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hEK2YCz9-IQ). Also, [I have a tumblr now](http://alia-castiella.tumblr.com), so please come visit me. And thanks for reading! <3, Ace_

Stiles clicks restlessly between Facebook and Wikipedia, trying to will his brain into focusing on his research, but the mellow, moody rock drifting out of his computer speakers keeps pulling him in another direction. It’s a rainy Saturday night in Beacon Hills, and Stiles is home alone and bored.

His dad’s working, and Scott and Isaac are at the animal clinic, probably practicing their puppy dog eyes, either on each other or on actual puppies. Possibly both. And according to Erica’s Facebook status, she and Boyd are on some sort of double date with Jackson and Lydia. (Now there’s a group he wouldn’t want to run into in a dark bowling alley.)

Stiles sweeps his gaze around his room (messy, as usual, with clothes and books and papers strewn over every available surface) and out the open window, finally landing on the tiny sliver of moon peeking out from among the clouds. He makes a decision.

He grabs the least wrinkled t-shirt and pair of jeans he can find in the basket of clean laundry on his bed and makes his way to the bathroom to rinse off the grime of a pajamas-and-junk-food day. He studies his reflection as he’s brushing his teeth and tries not to be dissatisfied with what he sees. But then, he supposes, satisfaction isn’t really his style, is it. He shrugs, rinses, spits, and heads back to his room to throw on his favorite red hoodie before grabbing his keys on his way out the door.

Outside, the rain has faded into a kind of vague drizzle. His Jeep’s headlights echo silver off the pavement as he drives out of town and into the shadowy woods.

It’s inevitable, he guesses, that he ends up at the Hale house. His thoughts have been dragging him there all day, and he’s never been all that awesome at impulse control.

He parks the Jeep and gets out, takes maybe three steps toward the house, and stops dead in his tracks. Derek is sitting on the rickety front steps, strumming a beat-up acoustic guitar. Stiles has never pictured Derek as a musician, but now that he thinks about it, he’s not all that surprised. After all, it sort of fits with the whole dark-and-brooding vibe he’s got going on.

Derek catches him staring and, instead of shooting him the usual semi-violent glare, just nods toward the empty space beside him on the steps. Stiles sits.

He gazes silently into the darkness for a little while, absently tapping his foot on the step beneath him, before some dark corner of his brain recognizes the song Derek’s playing. Without really realizing what he’s doing, he starts to sing along:

 

 

_You can’t start a fire,_

_You can’t start a fire without a spark._

_This gun’s for hire,_

_Even if we’re just dancing in the dark._


	2. Be My Solid Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...in which Derek and Stiles have many feels and also a bit of a jam session.

_**Note:**  As I mentioned before, the title of the work is from The Wailin' Jennys' [Last Goodbye](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=goghHorIjfQ). The soundtrack for this chapter is [Sway](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Hk7x3gc1_Q) by The Perishers. (Fellow Veronica Mars fans might recognize it.) And don't forget to [come vist me](http://alia-casteilla.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. Love y'all! <3, Ace_

 

When Derek looked up to see Stiles emerge from the misty shadows of the woods, he thought he might be dreaming. He nodded silently to the spot next to him, afraid the spell would break if either one of them spoke. But then the boy sat down beside him on the steps, and he smelled that familiar scent of mint mojito gum and wet grass and, well, _Stiles_ , and he knew his vision was the real thing. Not sure what was happening or what he should do about it, Derek kept playing.

When Stiles began to softly sing along, he almost stopped strumming, just because he wanted to listen. He had a nice voice. There was nothing showy about it, but it was warm and natural and increasingly confident. Derek found himself wishing the song would never end. When it did, he transitioned smoothly into another one — not a classic like the one they’d just finished, but one of his personal favorites.

Without looking up from his fingers on the frets, he asked, “Know this one?”

 

_I talk to you as to a friend._

_I hope that’s what you’ve come to be._

_It feels as though we’ve made amends,_

_Like we found our way eventually._

 

In answer, Stiles joined in on the next stanza, blending his pleasant tenor with Derek’s own gruff baritone. 

 

_It was you who picked the pieces up,_

_When I was a broken soul,_

_And then glued me back together,_

_Returned to me what others stole._  

 

Sometime during the final chorus, Derek felt the toe of a sneaker brush against his boot, and he heard Stiles’ heartbeat skip, speed up, and settle into a rhythm that echoed the guitar. His own pulse stuttered to match it. Something had changed, something the wolf in him had been waiting for since their first encounter in the woods all those months ago.

Surprised at the turn his thoughts had taken, he looked up at Stiles and found a pair of honey-colored eyes staring back at him, wide open and vulnerable. Yes, something had changed. The ground beneath him shifted, swayed...

And now Derek is flat on his back in the only furnished bedroom in the house, a sleeping Stiles draped warm and solid across his bare chest, early morning sunlight drifting in from an east-facing window and dancing across his skin, illuminating freckles and gilding long eyelashes. Derek traces a finger down the length of the boy’s spine, and when he shivers, pulls him in closer.

Things will be different now.


End file.
